


best girl

by sweetdanger



Series: S M [2]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:06:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22315294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetdanger/pseuds/sweetdanger
Relationships: Hirai Momo/Minatozaki Sana
Series: S M [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515419
Comments: 19
Kudos: 184





	1. best girl

Sana was barely five.

She just turned five, three months ago. She still doesn’t feel like it, especially when her mom packs her lunch boxes like this one. A sandwich in the shape of Hello Kitty’s head. Oranges, grapes, and peaches. Sweet, and kind to her tongue. There’s also a carton of strawberry milk with pink straw. Everything is pink, even her pencil case and backpack.

Sana loves being five.

She sticks to this thought, happily skipping down the hallways of the school. She loves school, loves coming home with stamps on the back of her hand. Would love to tell her dad that she colored butterflies blue today, and she sang very well when a classmate of hers celebrated her birthday.

She would tell her mom, too. Tell her that the birthday celebrant gave out drawings - penguin drawings. Sana has seen a real penguin, her parents took her to the aquarium one time. Penguins didn’t look like this, with big eyes, yellow beak, and short arms. But when she told that to Mina - birthday celebrant - her eyes became watery and her lips turned into a pout and her shoulders trembled. And really, Sana knows how it feels to cry. She remembers clearly how she wished for a dog, just three months ago, and her father said no, reasoning that no one will take care of it. She wanted to take care of it herself, she told her mother. But her mother only hugged her until she fell asleep, probably thinking that she will forget it the next morning.

She didn’t forget. Maybe she still cries about it, sometimes. Maybe later, when she remembers it again. But at that moment, she needs to stop the crying. Crying girl Mina. So Sana does it, that one thing that stops everyone from crying. Sana hugs her, with stubby arms and hands that barely reach the other girl’s back, because her lunch box is in between them. Sana compromises, tapping the birthday girl’s shoulder instead and touching her cheeks for good measure. The birthday girl is not crying. Not crying. Just birthday. Birthday girl Mina.

She’s so excited. Excited to tell her mom this. She stopped Mina from crying, and maybe they are friends now, too. She hasn’t confirmed it yet. Mina doesn’t talk much. Only talks to the girl from the playground, with teeth so big that it makes her look like a bunny. But Sana is excited to tell that story, too. She’s very excited. Too excited that she almost didn’t notice the girl sitting on the topmost level of the stairs. But she did. She noticed.

“Hi!” Sana beams, and the girl looks up at her. “What are you doing here alone?”

Alone. Sana learned this word a few weeks back. She was playing, in her playroom, and her cousins were outside. Her father came in and asked her the same thing.  _ What are you doing here alone?  _ What it actually means, she has yet to discover.

“I’m waiting for… car,” the girl mumbles under her breath and looks down. Sana tilts her head. Maybe this girl knows what alone means.

“You know what ‘alone’ is?” She asks, eyes big and full of wonder.

“W-what?” The other girl puts her hands together and shakes her head slowly.

“Me too,” Sana says, nodding. It must be a hard word. Sana sits beside her, also putting her hands together. The girl purses her lips and looks down again. “I’m Sana. I’m four. I am good at coloring.”

She will tell this to her father, this one. He taught her how to introduce. Name first, age second. The rest, Sana can say on her own will.

She shakes her head.

“No, wait. I’m five,” she puts one hand up, opening them wide. Her short fingers would show - she’s five. The other girl just watches, and nods, slowly.

Sana furrows her brows, confused. She already said her name, and age. The other girl should, too.

“You tell me your name now,” Sana says simply. She tilts her chin up. The other girl looking at her with a blank stare. She pushes. “Well, go on.”

“Momo,” she mutters. “I’m Momo.”

Sana waits for it, her age. She holds her breath, unconsciously. Waiting for it. But it never comes.

So Sana asks it herself. “How old are you?”

Momo shifts and sniffles. “Five.”

And she waits again, for the rest. When it doesn’t come, she asks once more. “What do you like doing?”

Momo looks at her. Eyes brown and wide, reflecting Sana’s own. “My sister said I am best at dancing.”

Sana nods, leans back on her hand. It’s taking a long while for her father to arrive today.

“What is ‘best’?” Sana asks after a short moment of silence. Momo looks down at her feet. She shrugs.

There is silence again.

And then a honk. The glass window slides down, making Sana jump. Also surprising Momo that she jumps in her seat, too.

“Papa!” She claps and makes grabby hands. She waves, too. Momo doesn’t know how she did all that in a span of three seconds.

A huge man comes over to them, going up the stairs and taking Sana. They hug in front of Momo.

While that was happening, another car parks in front of the school. This time, a young woman with another little girl, just slightly taller than them, come out of it.

Momo stands too and waves. Sana pauses in her father’s arms as Momo goes down the stairs and into the woman’s arms.

Sana calls.

“Momo!” She shouts just when her father was about to put her in the car. Momo turns around, hand in hand with the woman who picked her up. Must be her mom, Sana thinks. “Goodbye!”

Momo nods and grins, quite widely. Sana smiles too, and waves. Momo waves back.

“Is that your new friend?” Her father puts the seat belt around her. Sana nods repeatedly, a huge smile on her face. “And her name is Momo?”

“Yes, she is five and Momo,” Sana says simply, and then mumbles the next part. She will tell this one proudly, later, at the end of her long story. She learned a new word. “Best girl Momo.”


	2. favorite girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i saw something and thought of you.  
> one day, i hope you can forgive me for leaving.  
> and i hope i could do the same.  
>   
> 

The next day, Momo was seated far back.

And Sana usually sat close to the whiteboard, because she loves answering Ms. Park's questions, but now she can't see the point of sitting anywhere in front when her new friend has one free chair beside her. So Sana goes there, letting her feet skip happily, noisily on the floor; also letting everyone know that she is friends with Momo (who, by the way, is napping on her armchair and has no clue about the storm that will come - the storm being Sana).

She will sit with Momo today. Perhaps in the next days too.

"Hi," she beams happily. Momo raises her head and sees Sana's eyes on her, all big and soft. Her favorite teddy has brown eyes too, but they are empty and shallow, unlike Sana's. Hers are more chocolatey, light and sweet. "Good morning, Momo."

"Sana," Momo says with a slight wave. Sana smiles at that. Momo remembers her name.

She settles in the seat, puts down her lunchbox and looks around the room. It's still too early, but she can see Mina already in her seat. "I told Mama about you." Momo nods. Sana waits. For what, Momo doesn't know. But she can feel Sana's eyes still on her. "I talked about you during our _scrumptious_ dinner."

That’s new, just as much as everything is - being five, starting school, having a friend, being talked about.

"Sana talked about Momo." She shakes her head and reiterates. Hana told her to stop referring to herself as Momo, but as an _I_ or a _Me_. She's trying to learn it. "Talked about I, d'ring your what?"

"Aha!" Sana claps, giggles until Momo can't see her eyes anymore. Momo doesn't like not seeing her eyes, so she looks at Sana's bag instead. It's all pink, and Momo likes pink. "You do not know scrumptious." And maybe it was how Sana said it with a smug smile and a finger right in front of her face that made Momo furrow her own brows. "That is one word you do not know. I know a lot. Scrumptious, for one."

Ms. Park enters the room, gathering everyone's attention, announces that they will watch something today, and will later paint the characters of the show. Sana sits back, excited and giddy for the new project, but not before she leans over to Momo, cheeks pink and rosy as she whispers, breath hitting the shell of her friend’s ear, "Ours is bigger than that." Sana treats it as a secret. "Our _tevi-lision_."

"Your what?" Momo can't help but giggle. Sana puts up two fingers. _That’s two._

***

"During lunch," Sana says, leading them to the playground. "It is better to eat here." Momo doesn't answer, just sits on the grass-covered soil and slowly takes out her packed food, leaving Sana's words hanging in the air. "Momoring, I was talking to you."

Momo munches on her rice meal. Sana thinks she looks like something. With a full mouth, she corrects, "M-O-M-O. Momo."

Sana rolls her eyes. It’s something Momo noticed she likes doing. “I know how to spell _Momo,_ Momo.”

She shrugs and sips from her small carton of milk. It makes a slurping sound. Sana sits beside her and opens her lunchbox too. Today her sandwiches are shaped like fish. Huge fishes. “That’s a fish.” Momo swallows her chicken. “I like penguins and-”

“She likes it too.” Momo never really finishes her sentences. Perhaps she was just too slow. Perhaps Sana just has too much to say. Sana points to another kid, their classmate - Momo is good at remembering names. She is Momo, this is Sana, and that girl over there who is waiting at the bottom of the slide for another girl with funny front teeth, is Mina. “She draws _silly_ penguins. You know silly, right?”

Momo says yes. “What about what she likes?” She finishes her meal, then eyes Sana’s _silly_ sandwich. Sana gives it mindlessly, her attention at the top of the slide. Mina shrieks, giggling and running as the other girl slides down and chases her.

Sana hums. “Birthday girl Mina.” She takes another sandwich, bites tail first. “I think _radiant_ is a better word, don't you think? She says she is just Nayeon with a shining Mina.”

Momo chews on the fish, head first. “Define radiant?”

***

When Mina and Nayeon did come over during one weekend, Momo didn’t feel out of place. In fact, she has never felt that free before. And Sana said feeling free is like hanging from a tree with flowers in your hair. Momo didn’t really understand, until Sana laid upside down on the couch while Momo sat on the floor. Their heads bumped each other and they laughed all afternoon. Mrs. Minatozaki gave them edible, no-bake dough to play with, then she let Momo sleep over.

All the weekends after were spent in pure freedom.

“Sana always holds my hand.” She paints another bear and writes her and Sana’s names under it. She can’t wait to wash off the colors on her cheeks. The garage wall is a mess of random figures - probably animals, cartoons, who knows? “Is Nayeon your Sana? Does Nayeon make you feel free?”

Mina is a quiet girl. Momo doesn’t really expect answers from her. More often than not, she only gets a simple shrug. A pout, or a small whine. Little noises. Sometimes, when Mina is in that mood. “It’s just Nayeon.”

Mina is drawing another penguin. Her sixth. Momo hums again, lets Mr. Minatozaki’s favorite music resound. It sings something about the sun. The garage door opens and in comes Nayeon and Sana with plastic bags full of ice cream and more sweets. Momo wrote Nayeon’s name beside Mina’s hastily, afraid that Nayeon would tease her (she always does) and take the aloe-flavored ice cream first.

But when she puts herself in the trio huddle, Sana reaches for her hand. It’s sticky and all things Momo hates. “There was only one aloe-flavored ice cream. Share it with me. You took all of mine last time.”

They are eight now. The sun still shines brightly on Sana, like all its attention is on her. Momo would later on see the word _tantalizing_ in a poetry book her sister would leave on the couch, and she would let Sana define it the next day. It would perfectly describe how she feels.

At the moment, Nayeon carries a sleeping Mina on her back, waving goodbye as the sun sets and the garage door closes. Sana takes her to the bedroom and they would turn on the lamp to read some more, even after lights out.

  
  


***

When Nayeon turns eleven, she grows much taller that Mina looks terribly tiny beside her.

“It’s part of _puberty_ ,” Nayeon announces over their picnic. Momo hears Sana’s giggle from afar, and it reaches her insides. She smiles, too, warm under the shade of this huge tree. “Menstruation makes me feel squirmy and tired. I just sit there and feel - you know, everything. And then I would feel like I could clean the whole house, which I can’t, you know? Then I would rummage our cabinets for food like a hungry raccoon. After that, I would feel sleepy.”

Momo nods. That sounds just like her. Except the house cleaning part. She’s probably next.

“Also,” Nayeon props herself on her elbows and puts stringed flowers on Momo’s forehead. She lowers her voice. “I saw something on Kai’s computer yesterday.”

This made Momo open one eye. Just one. Because Nayeon has yet to capture her whole attention. Part of her is running with Sana, bothering street cats lying around. The older girl sits up, now biting on a takoyaki. “I was - I was kind of sneaking. I went to the bathroom while Mina played Switch.” Nayeon shrugs. “His room was open. But it wasn’t my fault that the PC was also on. And that tab was just _there_.”

Momo sits up too, mirrors Nayeon. The flower petals fall on her lap. There’s a screech of a bicycle from a near distance. She doesn’t mind. “What did you see?”

“Naked women. Men, too, maybe. I didn’t look much.” Nayeon reveals as she eats. “Hey, Minari.”

“Hi.” Mina heaves and tries to smile. She looks exhausted. Momo hears a loud cry. “Sana needs help.”

  
  
  


It was deep, the wound. Momo could feel her own fingers tremble as she patches up Sana’s knee. She’s sure she saw a hint of a bone popping out from there. Nayeon said she looked paler than Mrs. Robinson, their Arts teacher who smells like coffee and cigarettes all the time. Mina nudged her. Mina liked Mrs. Robinson.

“Don’t tell Papa.” Sana pouts. “I’m okay, Momoring. Just a scratch.”

Okay, foremost, Momo hasn’t thought of telling. Momo hasn’t even thought of _anything_ yet. Right when she saw Sana crying, the first instinct was to take her home and treat the wound. But now Sana has curled her body around Momo, and it feels much hotter now than it was in the park. “He will ground me, and I won’t be able to see you for days, and worse, _weeks_. And I can’t _not_ see you for weeks! It would be _utterly_ _devastating_ , Momoring.”

Mina shakes her head. Nayeon giggles and kisses her cheek. Momo waves them off, scoots impossibly closer to Sana. She learned that devastating is a very, very, very sad word. “Okay, Momo won’t. I won't.”

She sleeps over for the nth time. They wear oversized pajamas so Sana’s parents didn’t notice anything slightly different with how Sana walked. What they did notice was how the bed seems to have gotten too small for two people to fit, but little kids have a way of working these things out. Or, Momo and Sana have already perfected cuddling and how their bodies should fit. Their parents didn't need to know.

“Nayeon saw something yesterday.” She plops on the bed. Sana does the same beside her. Dinner was heavy on the tummy. Her voice gets muffled in the sheets, then she turns to her side and faces Sana. Her eyes are on Momo, patiently waiting for the details. “I think it’s the p word.”

Sana giggles, high-pitched and beautiful. “There are a lot of _p words_ , Momoring. You have to be more specific.”

Momo groans, because she knew her best friend like the back of her hand. She knew she would say that. “Well, I can’t say it. It’s a bad p-word.”

Sana gets up swiftly, surprising Momo. “ _Well_ , I can’t help you with your p-word if you don’t tell me what it is.” She walks to her closet and takes off her shirt, then her shorts. Momo follows the line on Sana’s back. “Would you rather show me?”

Sana turns around then, half-naked and eyebrows raised. “W-what? No way! We won’t watch porn!”

Sana laughed endlessly until the next day, and Nayeon tells her jokingly how she can’t keep one conversation to herself.

***

It happens during the summer break - Momo learning a few more.

“But if each day, each hour,” Sana brushes her fingers through Momo’s hair. There’s soft white noise coming from the TV. Momo learns that Sana can't comfortably read without background noise. “You feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness,” she reads. Momo appreciates how her vocabulary has tremendously grown. Each word from her pulls on Momo's heartstrings. “If each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me...” Sana pauses. Momo stares up. “You listening?”

Humming is enough of an answer. “Ah my love, ah my own,” her favorite girl continues. “In me, all that fire is repeated. In me, nothing is extinguished or forgotten.” Her chin is being pulled up, softly, gently. Momo simply smiles. Sana has learned how to make her soar. “Listen.”

She answers with an “I am listening” and lets Sana’s voice fill the living room once again. “My love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as-” Momo gets tickled by how smooth Sana’s fingers are, so she giggles loudly, gently. Momo has learned that it's okay to disturb Sana's reading. Sometimes. “ _Shh_ , one more line.”

“And as long as you live,” she repeats. Momo intertwines their hands. Summer break will be over soon. They would be fifteen. That means high school. “It will be in your arms, without leaving mine.”

“Whose is that?”

Sana kisses the top of her head, then her forehead, then her lids, down to her nose. The way she stops there always frustrates Momo endlessly, though she doesn't know why, or where she wants it to reach. “It's ours now.”

So she pulls on her neck because she can. And she smirks because she can. Momo learned this too, a while back. She can emit reactions from her best friend that no one else can. She lets Sana stay there, in her eyes, because she can. Her fingers feel every detail - of how Sana gets goosebumps, how Sana’s mouth stays open, how her heart beats erratically, and how her pupils dilate, softly, gently. “Whose?”

Sana stammers, and then - “If you forget me.”

“I wasn’t asking for the title, dummy.” She giggles. “I wanted to know who wrote it-”

It happened during the summer break. On the couch. In the living room. On Sana’s lap. It was quick, and soft, and gentle. The rush was felt. It lingers for days. And then it's gone, until they kissed again. This time after school, in Momo's room.

“If you forget me,” Sana clears her throat, flagrantly blushing. Momo, who looks just as flustered, grabs the TV remote and turns the volume up. “By Pablo Neruda.”

Momo turns the volume higher until she cannot anymore hear Sana's heart. “Define implacable?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was supposed to be a one shot. oh well.
> 
> in the last chapter: sana defines pink.


	3. only girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this just like how you want it --  
> wanted it.  
> just like how we always were.
> 
> i’m sorry i always either said too much, or none at all.

“Did you know, Sana,” she shuffles on the bed and faces her best friend; one elbow propping her whole body. “That, so far, we have exchanged at least seventy million words to each other in this lifetime? And we’re only seventeen.”

The younger continuously - and angrily, it seems so for Momo - types down her essay.

“I made that up.” Momo plops back down to the bed and stares at the ceiling, picks at Sana’s bedsheet. It always smelled of something fruity. Like summer. Like Sana. “I don’t count words, but we have probably said a few million, huh? You, mostly.”

Sana nods distractedly, sipping from her mug of warm milk. She has her reading glasses on, and Momo thinks that sometimes, Sana wears it to look older. When she first bleached her hair and went blonde, she wore those reading glasses along with her new style. She once told Sana she looks good with it -- with her hair, with her reading glasses. Sana kept on wearing it; maintained her roots, wore her glasses, even insisting to get her eyes checked and get real ones. To sound and look smarter than she is, maybe. “This is making me sleepy.”

She types again, furiously, as if this 1000-word reflection paper would be seen by the government and completely oust the monarchy. As if this wouldn’t be checked by lanky old Mr. Chase, who inputs his opinions on the second world war in every lesson they have ever discussed. He teaches Chemistry.

“Sleepy? You’re writing this essay like you could change the world with it.”

Maybe Sana can, you know, change the world with her words. “Mo,” she calls. “Can you search up that one exclusion principle for me? Forgot what that’s called.”

How can Momo forget the day Mr. Chase said something trivial. He skimmed the room, looking into everyone’s bored eyes. Most of them have drool on their cheeks. Only one is surprisingly wide awake, having been challenged to down a can of ice-cold coffee in five seconds.

“ _Did you know that atoms never really touch?’_ ” Momo quotes. She sits up, leaning her hands behind her. She will always love how Sana listens, and Sana will always have a love-hate about how Momo never notices one thing. “‘ _Two atoms repel each other. There is no touching, no collision, nothing physical, for electrons are boundless energies. Too much energy in such a small particle, perhaps,’_ ” Momo chuckles and raises a finger, mocking their professor. Sana could only watch. The wind comes in through the open window and it bites, cold and prickling on her skin. “God, can you believe, he said _perhaps_ with that twitch of a finger -- you know that, right? His habit of pointing his crooked finger to us? He said that with complete foolishness in his eyes. I think someone broke up with him using that line.” Sana giggles too, like a little child waiting for the ending of a bedtime story, her full attention now on Momo’s theatrics. “ _‘Too much energy in such a small particle, perhaps, is the essential reason why they cannot, and never did touch.’_ He ended that like he wanted all of us to give him applause.”

“The way you memorized - you’re the _funniest_ person I know, please don’t tell Nayeon,” Sana comments, laughing and tearing up a bit. Momo notices her shudder. She stands up and closes the windows.

“I would’ve, really - I would’ve stood up and clapped for him, how he said those so sincerely, but then he started talking about - about H-slur again. World War II is _not_ for Chemistry! Why does he talk about him?” Momo groans fakely. Only to make Sana laugh harder, maybe. She walks back to the bed. “Can I punch him? Can I punch him when he does, Sana?”

“The way you memorized that is endearing, Momoring. You only ever remember the sappy things.” Sana laughs, always high-pitched like she’s trying to sing her way out of the conversation. But she always stays in hers and Momo’s. It’s why Momo never once stopped talking to her, too.

“Sappy?” Momo is seventeen and a lot of other s-words that Sana doesn’t really have the courage to admit, nor to ask. “What is so sappy with Mr. Chase being an absolute nerd?”

“Oh, _Momoring_ ,” Sana doubles in laughter now, and her tears are from their past conversations, ones that Momo never understood either - but not for this one. “Do you want me to define the word?”

Momo pouts, nods, like she even has to. Sana saves the file, names it Sappy, before swiveling on her computer chair and then jumping out of it. “Tomorrow, I will dye my hair into a color you like.” She slips into the bed and raises the blanket. Momo didn’t notice when she removed her glasses. She still looks just as good. “And you will be enamored.”

“I know enamored,” Momo whispers mindlessly, being lulled into sleep by Sana’s finger tracing circles on her tummy. If humans are made of atoms, the exclusion principle should be debunked. Sana is touching her, boundless, limitless, physical, and Momo feels a soft whirlwind of collision -- this is so much, _perhaps too much_ , for such a small gesture. “That was the third word you defined on the night of my tenth birthday.”

“See,” Momo can see her best friend’s smile even with closed lids. It is these minute things that Sana doesn’t notice either. “You only do remember the sappy things.”

  
  


\----

  
  


Mina turns eighteen on a school day.

“Platonic.” Sana falls in line behind a kid she is sure she sits with during History, though she can’t remember the name. Nayeon follows her with a definite eye-roll. Sana is used to it by now. “Adjective. Of or relating to a relationship, a _close_ relationship marked by-”

“The absence of romance or sex, blah, blah.” Nayeon scoffs. She goes along with it every time. Sana doesn’t mind. Just gets her utensils and eyes the menu. “Pity. Noun - a _very_ strong emotion that is surging in me right now, might I say - the feeling of being disappointed due to other people’s suffering.”

“That, gorgeous,” Sana tucks a loose strand of hair behind Nayeon’s ear. Nayeon slaps her hand away. “Is just how this _friendship_ works _._ Noun. You and I, looking out for each other.” Sana grabs a tray and almost lets the lady put rice on it until she remembers her diet. “Oh, pass. Can I have some lettuce instead?”

She gets an apple and some clementine. And then that’s it for Sana. She searches for a seat and looks back at Nayeon, whose tray is as full and colorful as it was back in kindergarten. “Sana, _ridiculous_ ,” her best friend exclaims. “Adjective. Absurd. One, you _have_ to eat more than that. Two, Momo is the love of your life.”

“52 for the apple, 50 for this clementine, about 20~40 for the lettuce?” Nayeon shakes her head. Food is the only thing we shouldn’t do math on. “The calories are enough to last the whole afternoon. And that’s not right, _all three of you_ have a piece of my heart. Mina is my darling, though.”

“One day, I’ll make you stop calling her that, and not because I am jealous, but because I am _honest_ , and say my _honest_ feelings out loud.” Nayeon sits with her and brings out her phone. She takes a video of Sana and Sana gladly complies, posing with a smoochy face. “I’m telling Momo you’re eating scraps for lunch.”

“ _Betrayal_. Noun.” Sana peels the clementine and eats four in one go. It makes her cheeks puffy. “This is treachery, your honor.”

Nayeon sends the video to their group chat.

A moment later, Momo does sit down beside Sana, all sweaty and tired from practice. Mina does so too beside Nayeon. She smiles softly and drinks water from the bottle that Nayeon automatically hands over.

When Nayeon asks “How was dance?” it wasn’t entirely because she wants to know what went on with that new kid who has a crush on her Mina, (and who, coincidentally, got partnered up with Mina, too) but because she hasn’t heard the girl’s voice in a few hours - probably seven, if not counting how she watched Mina’s most recently sent video. She hands Mina a towel and lets her take a bite from her lunch. Mina is divine, you see. Nayeon feels left behind.

“ _Depleting_ . Sir Lee was strict as usual. Didn’t let us have a break.” Mina takes out her notebook, silently asking for Nayeon’s copy. She’s restless, never letting herself lose in anything. Not even in academics. Nayeon explains how she was so sleepy when she took notes and they probably aren’t legible. Mina simply copies, like she could read Nayeon’s handwriting even in the dark. “It was _draining, consuming…_ What’s the word, Momo?”

Mina still talks quietly. She hasn’t grown one bit, even at eighteen - scratch that. Everything about Mina has grown extensively. But as long as her hands fit Nayeon’s still, Nayeon doesn't really care.

Sana answers mindlessly “Exhausting?” as she fixes Momo’s bangs. Momo says thank you, and Sana doesn’t really know what she was grateful for. Her wiping Momo’s sweat, her parting Momo’s bangs and kissing her forehead, her writing notes for Momo while she was at practice, her taking another lunch tray and lining up for Momo.

Sana comes back and Momo doesn’t wait a second. She dives in at once. “Tiring, Mi-tan.” Momo holds Sana’s hand under the table. The latter blushes, because Momo’s ring feels cold on her skin. She hopes hers doesn’t feel that way. “The word is tiring.”

Mina doesn’t look up, still writing, but she smiles - gummy, beautiful, lovely. Nayeon is entrapped, encased, enclosed, entranced, all that e-word. “Yes, tiring.”

Momo feels her phone vibrate and takes it out. She glares at Sana, but Sana immediately looks back, so her eyes turn gentle and she says, “I will cook you that pasta you like so much. It will be so good. Zero calories.”

Momo bites on the red bean sandwich. Head first. Fish-shaped.

Sana skips the apple. Nayeon skips the last class to prepare Mina’s surprise. It was just movie night, but with cake. And pasta.

And probably kissing. But Sana and Momo didn’t have to know.

“Betrayal wasn’t the word.” Mina looks pretty against the bathroom door. She tastes like salty chips and red wine. “Sana was wrong. It was _secrecy_. Don’t leave hickeys or I’ll punch you in the face.”

“Okay,” Nayeon giggles. Holds Mina’s fists above her head. Just for assurance. You never know what this tiny little thing can do. “Okay, no hickeys.”

“Noun,” Mina sighs. Nayeon can be harsh on her skin. “You, against bathroom doors.” Her wrists feel like they’re tied up, but then Nayeon softens and looks up. This is always her favorite part. “You, against me.” Mina would smile, could read Nayeon in the dark. Nayeon would feel defenseless. “The thrill of it all. The secrecy.”

\----

At twenty-two, on Sana’s birthday, they try to _escalate_ , as Momo termed it. College made it impossible to see each other every day. College made this possible. Or perhaps it was just their suppressed hormones, wilding.

“Ever heard of this before,” leave it to Momo to be talking during their first time. She bites, too. Always had been a biter. “You have the biggest heart.”

Sana giggles, instinctively, naturally - because that’s her Momo. Her best girl. “And you are the funniest person I know.”

Silence, taking off clothes, and “ever heard of this before,” Momo starts to walk down on every bit of her skin. “Touching isn’t a real thing.”

Sana moans, embarrassingly so.

“Our brain simply thinks that when our skin interacts with electrons,” leave it to Momo to be all science-y during their first time. She sucks quite hard, albeit lovingly, too. “Cool, right?”

One burning moment, “Are you coming yet?”

When Sana can only grab on her scalp and scream her name, Momo defines a word for the first time. It was unforgettable.

  
  


So Sana tells Mina and Nayeon the next day that the word means this - “Adjective. Indescribable. Excep- _fucking_ -tional.”

Mina snorts. Them two have been going at it for years. “Good for you, honey.”

Momo sits with them through a video call. Talks about that one professor who she thinks Mina would like. “I think I found Mr. Chase’s ex. She only ever talks about atoms.”

Nayeon opens the water bottle for Mina. “Hey, Sana told us something just now, you know-”

“Does she teach Chemistry, Momoring?” Nayeon rolls her eyes. Mina laughs. Sana throws them the finger behind the phone camera.

“Uh, yeah?” Momo says. Nayeon snorts. “That’s my program.”

“Well, that’s reasonable then?” Sana kicks Nayeon’s shin. Mina laughs louder, if that’s possible. “Chemistry and atoms?”

Silence, Momo forks her food, pauses then says - “It’s cute when you try to understand.”

Sana blushes. It’s their last semester. Momo can make it through.

Mina grabs the phone just as Nayeon almost does, then sings, “Sa-tang said you were _exceptional_ in bed.”

“If I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more.” Momo chokes on her rice meal. Sana finishes her salad. “Jane Austen.”

\---

She gets asked for a date at twenty-five. She’s been twenty-five for nine months now. It’s pretty sweet. The job pays the bills.

The guy approached her during a party. It was after work and Momo wasn’t there. But Sana wanted to tell her. So she calls Momo, drunk, and stumbling on her words.

“ _Momoringgggggg,”_ Sana trips on nothing. Survives the almost-fall. Sits on grass instead. “Somebody here asked me out!”

Silence, shuffling, and - “Who?”

“Oh, well, um,” Sana clears her throat. Straightens her back. Feels the pool. It’s probably the pool. Momo’s sleepy voice does things to her. “I didn’t ask. I should go back and ask, right?”

“Did you even say yes to the date,” her best friend asks in a monotonous voice.

“Of course not, silly,” Sana giggles. Splashes water. It _is_ the pool. “I properly introduced myself. I said ‘Sana, 25. I am good at writing. Kinda.’ And then he asked if I was free on Saturday, but Saturday is Nayeon day.”

Silence, shuffling, blankets and pillows, and - “Okay.”

“You’re boring,” Sana says. “Tell me something about anything.”

A sigh, maybe a yawn, then - “Electrons can pass through walls. That means atoms that are far apart can still influence each other. Still touching.”

“You said touching isn’t real.” And silence, silence, secrets, and back from where they left off - “I have but one thought, Momo, this night in September…”

Secrets, trailing, and a recognizable insolent barking in the background - “Hmm, what about?”

“Forgive me, my darling, for every word I say.”

“I am _so_ telling Mi-tan. Isn’t she with you-”

“My heart is full of you,” she lies down on the grass, ginger against the green, “none other than you in my thoughts,” her feet still submerged in water and chlorine. A chemical she remembers from Momo’s notes. It feels nice. “Yet, when I seek to say to you something not for the world, words fail me. If you were here-”

“Are you alone?” Momo asks. “You’re so drunk, Sana.”

“Shh, one more line,” and she never wanted to cry so much. “I miss my biggest heart.”

“That’s not a line. It's the title, dummy. I want to know if you are alone.”

“You know what ‘alone’ is?” Sana chuckles, remembering. The phone feels hot on her cheek. “I miss my biggest heart,” she peeks from behind the secrecy, croaks out the next few words. Tomorrow, Momo will bleach her hair and turn it platinum. Sana will write a book about it. “Emily Dickinson.”

Silence, silence, silence - and nothing else.

“Please make me define a word from it.”

“It’s ours,” Momo says. More shuffling, the sound of keys clicking. “I know all the words.”


End file.
